


Children's Games

by Sysnix



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Background Relationships, Dubious Consent, Gen, Insanity, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-11 01:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3310997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sysnix/pseuds/Sysnix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon Divergence starting at the beginning of His Sister's Keeper. </p><p>Clarke gets captured by a Grounder Tribe. The same tribe that has Murphy. Can they get along enough to help each other survive? And what will happen to the others from the 100?</p><p>[Okay, the rape is completely not shown, and a lot of people are likely going to even miss that it happens at all. But I left the warning there for those very sensitive to sex through coercion.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Rover

Clarke raced past trees, over boulders, down ravines, and through a creek. Heartbeats vibrated through her entire body while panic overthrew her normal logic. Knowing she couldn't get away meant nothing to the instincts shouting for her to keep running. The sharp pains in her side and labored breathing couldn't stop her now. To move was life, to stop was death. The Grounders were faster with their horses circling her until another set of instincts kicked in. They told her to surrender and live to fight or escape another day.

Thrown over the side of a saddle, Clarke passed out from over-stimulation. When she came to, her muscles ached like never before. There was little light, but it looked like she was in a bunker like the one Finn found. Finn who she'd made love to. Finn who had a girlfriend already. Finn who broke her heart to bits and pieces. That, more than aches and pains or being captured, had her eyes misting up. A few deep breathes, and she got herself under control. She couldn't afford to be emotional right now.

It took a while, but she finally pulled herself up to sitting. This gave her a better view of her surroundings and showed that she was not by any means alone. Out of the dozen people, she knew three of them.

Simone'd been in the skybox for over ten years, making her five when she went in. Both her parents had been floated for stealing the materials they used to make a back brace so she could walk. When her parents were being taken away, Simone panicked and stabbed a guard in the thigh, severing the artery there. She'd bled out in less than two minutes and Sim disappeared into the skybox.

Locke had been a friend of Clarke's when they were small, along with Wells. The joke'd been they were the only known set of conjoined triplets. But then he got addicted to painkillers when they were all around twelve. The injury starting it all had been a railing going out, dropping Locke and tearing his left ACL. Since they'd float a person for not handling chronic pain well, he'd turned to morphine. If the Chancellor had been merciful, Locke would've gone for a suit-less spacewalk. Both sweet and sour memories of him reproduced long suppressed heartache.

The one that worried her though was Murphy. His glare felt as though it was trying to turn her to ashes, forcing her gaze away.

Everyone here had some kind of injury, and her drive to help people took over and she began triage.

"What happened to everyone?" she asked no one.

"The Grounders play this violent game of Red Rover. Oh and they play for keepsies." Murphy's snark made her laugh despite the direness of the situation.

Five people were beyond help, acid burn victims. "There was a fog?"

"Toward the end of the battle, yeah. Most of us got away. These poor bastards couldn't walk so they were brought here." His lack of caring seeped through and disgusted her in the familiar way Murphy did. "Don't know why they did that. Usually we kill the hopelessly dying right away."

Their suffering useless, left only one mercy. But that would have to wait, the others needed treated. She used water from a crack in the wall to clean cuts. Fabric torn from the patient's clothes provided bandages, slings, and straps to hold splints in place. Murphy said nothing to her as she cleaned the deep scratches on his face and chest, which suited her fine.

There was one girl who wasn't injured at all. Clarke made sure that she was warm and had plenty to drink, her thin frame worrisome.

With nothing to use to kill the five dying with any expediency, Clarke felt helpless, too overwhelmed to think. Locke didn't even seem aware of his surroundings through the haze of his pain. Her chin trembled as she looked at the five acid burn victims. "I have to, ah, but I have nothing." Clarke sucked in as much air as possible to keep from crying.

"Like this," Murphy said as he grabbed the chin of the dying Grounder closest to him, reached behind their head. "Yu gonplei ste odon." Then pulled his arms in opposing directions. The neck snapped and death was instant. Murphy speaking Grounder surprised Clarke since he'd seemed even more psychotic than when she'd banished him.

Death brought a truce, however unspoken, between her and Murphy. She shook while killing two people. One of them being an old friend. A boy that had been like she imagined a brother being.

Clarke made sure everyone was as comfortable as possible, and as warm as possible too, trying to distance herself from everything. Once more over-stimulated, she needed sleep, but with all the activity, the only place left for her was right next to John Murphy, but she was beyond caring if he killed her in her sleep. With an internal promise to search for ways to escape when she woke up, she rested her head on her arm and curled up as small as she could.

Her dreams were jumbled bits and pieces of the Ark, the bomb shelter, and the drop ship. They created a maze lined with dead bodies and burn victims, suffocating her as she tried to find an exit. Gasping for air and sobbing, Clarke reached out in search of something, someone, anyone to cling to for reassurance that she was okay. The hushing noises and circling arms soothed her back to sleep, folding her in a blanket of sunlight and safety.

Clarke woke up as someone dragged her to her feet, slapped her across the face, and yelled at her in a language she didn't recognize. Thin strong fingers dug into her chin, forcing her to look right. The amber brown eyes boring into her belonged to the uninjured girl from the night before. Clarke recognized that what she thought was frailty was in reality lean muscle. "You know how to heal, let's see if you can injure."

The woman let go, and Clarke tried to get her bearings, but before she could do so, someone was attacking her. The first blow sent her flying backward, hitting the ground so hard the breath left her. A kick to her ribs cracked something, but she still twisted her body to avoid the next attack. Her fingers brushed against something metal. It turned out to be a piece of rebar. She picked it up and swung it around like a sword as she coiled to her feet. A good look at her opponent told her where his blind spots were given the way he moved. A lifetime of training kicked in as she parried left, so he missed again, while she struck him hard in the arm. The burly man grunted but didn't flinch or stop.

Though not entirely like the fencing she learned on the Ark, having a long piece of metal in her hand helped her focus, no matter how unwieldy. Swordplay was the only physical thing Clarke excelled at growing up. Never did she think she'd be using it as anything other than exercise.  
With a machete in play now, Clarke was even more grateful for the loose piece of rebar as she blocked a strike aimed at her face. A well timed slap to his hand at the right angle sent his weapon skittering across the ground. Another blow to his already injured arm, followed by one to the back of his knee downed the man. Clarke aimed for his head and came up short when the woman grabbed her wrist, swung her around, and head butted her. Sprawled across the rocky ground, Clarke clambered backward trying to get away grasping for her lost weapon. This new attacker kicked her in the head, leaving her too dizzy to move.

"I'll take care of her, Anya," Murphy said as he picked Clarke off the ground.

Head dangling at the small of his back, the jostling combined with the head trauma nauseated Clarke to the point of throwing up. As if that weren't bad enough, given her position some of it went up her nose. How burned was the perfect metaphor for how her life was going right then.


	2. Concerned Coma

Raven roused just in time to watch the Grounders chasing Clarke away from her and the drop ship, but she couldn't let Clarke take the heat. Just as she was about to yell and get the attention turned on her, a hand clamped over her mouth and dragged her to the forest floor. Panic filled her ears with white noise, but she heard the whispered words slicing through, and not just feel the lips moving as they pressed against her ear. "She'll be fine."

The voice sounded under-used, yet the deepness reverberated in her chest soothing her nerves. "What the hell happened?"

"You passed out." The man was tall, bald, and muscular, picking her up easily. 

"We have to rescue her." Raven strained trying to get free and looking for any sign of Clarke in the surrounding woods. Empty and devoid of any sign that people had been there. "Where are you taking me? The drop ship's the other way! And I have to find that bunker to get a transmitter! Let me go you ass!"

He didn't respond to her strident declarations or struggles. Her fighting called attention to a problem with her ankle. The foot dangled like it wasn’t attached right and the joint throbbed pain up her leg with each step they took.

Close to an hour later he set her down inside his cave where a girl with clothes from the Ark slept. Only an idiot would mistake the worn out and ill-fitting fabrics as coming from anywhere else. No amount of shouting had worked to get her where she wanted to be so the best she could do was wait for the right moment to change things. But, her frustration jiggled every extremity she had. Her ankle being broken meant she winced a lot, which pissed her off more, and made her jiggle more, hurting her ankle, restarting the cycle. Deep inhales and exhales helped calm her down, but she needed to distract herself, since tall, dark and silent refused to talk to her.

Raven studied the girl while the man worked on something in the corner. Brittle ends on otherwise perfect lush black hair showed the need for a haircut that all the kids from the drop ship had.. This girl, who Raven assumed was Octavia, the girl the other group was looking for, had smooth and flawless, but dirty skin. Except for the wound on her forehead. At least it looked cleaned and tended to, suggesting the man didn't mean them any harm.

The temperature down here had to be zero degrees and while the Ark had always been a bit chilly, this eclipsed the Ark at its worst. Her jacket didn't save her and her teeth chattered, body trembling. To keep warm Raven kept moving while chanting under her breath, "Finn. Come get me."

* * *

Her screams were muffled by the piece of wood being held between her teeth. Waking up to this amount of pain rated up there as the worst experience of her life. Didn't people pass out from pain? So why the hell was she awake?

"It's okay. Shh. It'll be over in a minute. Just hold on, okay?" Octavia's voice held the strength and certainty that Raven needed. Raven nodded and bit down on the wood as more pain blew up in her ankle. The edges of the world blurred and everything dimmed, Raven closed her eyes reaching for the angel Octavia.

* * *

"Finn?" The gentle calloused fingers probing her aching ankle felt like the ones she'd known all her life. When she opened her eyes the man who brought her here was her only company. 

"Octavia went to get more of you to help search for your friend."

"What's your name?"

"Lincoln."

"Raven."

He gave her a shallow nod before turning toward the exit. He must have heard something she hadn't because less than a minute later the cavern filled with newly familiar faces. Finn ran up to her frantic in his statements and questions, "Thank god you're okay. What happened?"

All she wanted to do was kiss him, but his attention focused on checking her over for more injures. And as soon as she thought she had an opening, he turned to Octavia and Lincoln and asked, "Where's Clarke?"

After that Raven stopped paying attention. She knew that tone in Finn's voice. That urgent worry meant he loved Clarke. Her eyes fixed on the brace around her ankle, not that she saw it. 

Time lost all meaning. It didn't matter that she had no privacy, or that she didn't move, or that she spent most of her time alone, nothing mattered. She risked her life getting here only to find her reason didn't care about her anymore. There wasn't much difference between her waking and non-waking hours. Someone moved her legs and arms, massaging the limbs she refused to move. Her thoughts and dreams took her to the happiest moments in her life: spacewalking. The longing for zero-g consumed her. 

Splattered with ice cold water, Raven made her first sound in weeks, a gasp that cracked her throat. Eyes on the culprit, she growled and threw herself in that direction. "I'm going to kill you Finn."

"It'd be a step up from the dead person routine you've got going on." His smirk pricked at her heart, smiling at her after falling in love with someone else?

"Get floated."

His face drew in with concern, no traces of the humor from a moment ago. He sat down next to her and smoothed back her sopping hair, then caressed her cheek. "Raven. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

She forced a smile. "I hate being an invalid. Did we find Clarke yet?"

Pain flitted across his countenance. "No. Lincoln thought it was the NoMa tribe at first but it wasn't. It could've been anyone in Tondc. We're still looking." His eyes searched her face. "I'm more worried about you right now."

Raven threw her arms around Finn's neck. Caring and love were two different things, and she felt like a fool for having forgotten that.

"I love you, but you need a bath." He teased with a crinkled nose, nudging her away.

She laughed and punched him in the shoulder. "You should know better than to criticize the girl you love."

"And here I thought that meant we could be honest with each other."

The laughter was fantastic and cleansing. Things were right again.

* * *

As she stood in the entryway, Octavia asked her brother, "When should we tell her that everyone at the drop ship's missing too?"

Bellamy looked at the new girl and Finn, irritation written over his entire body. "Soon. We can't afford to waste any more time waiting on her to get her shit together. We need to find the others. Right now there's only the four of us, making our odds of survival nil."

"Five."

"What do you mean? Five?"

"Lincoln. He's with us too. And he's been a part of this world his whole life. I'd say that increases our chances."

"I don't know him well enough to trust him."

Octavia crossed her arms over her chest. "But you trust a bunch of criminals you never talked to more than the man that saved my life? That saved Raven's life? That's helping us look for everyone? Really, what did those kids do to gain your trust like that? Because the Bellamy I knew, trusted no one."

He didn't even watch his sister storm off down the tunnel. He didn't want her to see that she'd made her point. How could he tell her that since everyone on the Ark who has and will die because of him made him have an odd sense of protectiveness over those who survived the Ark? There's no way she'd understand that kind of guilt and shame. No way she'd understand that much need to make whatever amends he could. She had no loyalty to anyone on the Ark. They forced her to live under the floor, and when they discovered her they floated her mother, one of only two people she knew, and then locked her up like it was her fault for being born illegally. Octavia would never grieve the loss of those lives. And the drop ship kids hadn't been great to her either. If he weren't responsible for those children losing whatever family they had on the Ark, he wouldn't care about them either.

Raven and Finn attached at the mouth sent Bellamy in the same direction as his sister.

* * *

Harper screamed as they dragged her away. The fancy dresses and delectable food didn't hide that there was something wrong here. They’d taken four of them and once someone was gone they never came back.


	3. Aces over Sevens

Anya waited in her hut for Murphy. His hair now braided and twisted away from his face, showed off the scars down his cheek, still pink with youth. She was proud of how well he assimilated. He fought with a fierceness only paralleled by Clarke and herself. The two Sky People impressed her with their skill in battle.

“Clarke is with child, Anya.”

“Wonderful.” She nodded and looked at the man in front of her. “Murphy, two things you need to do. Breed with Fers, and train as my second.”

“Yes, Anya.” The tick in his jaw told her something hadn’t made him happy. Which perplexed her as Fers was the most coveted woman in camp and as far as she’d seen she didn’t think he preferred men. And being a second was a position sought by all. “More?”

“Tell Clarke she’ll be training as a second with you.”

“Yes, Leader.”

Anya waved him away. He bowed his head and left.

* * *

Murphy returned to the shack he shared with Clarke with food for dinner. After having spent the last two months with the Grounders, they’d noticed how little nourishment they needed in comparison. Clarke believed that it had to do with the genetic modifications they went through in utero. Everyone on the Ark had been modified to survive with less while producing more. The process wasn’t perfect, but it explained a lot about the differences between the Sky People and the Grounders.

He set some berries and a chunk of smoked meat in front of her as she stared at nothing with a hand on her still flat belly. “Thanks, Murphy.”

“I had to tell her, ya know.” He plopped down on the bench opposite her, ready to eat.

“I know. What’d she say?”

“That it’s wonderful. Not a surprise really. I mean they took us to prevent inbreeding, didn’t they?” He popped a bite of meat in his mouth.

“Yeah.”

“What is surprising is that we’ll train as her seconds.”

“That is astonishing. We’re outsiders.”

“From what I gathered, we aren’t anymore.” He pushed her plate closer to her. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He knew better. “You can’t starve the baby out of you. Anya’d have you killed for that.”

With a nod, she picked up a berry and popped it in her mouth, chewed longer than need be, swallowed, and then repeated until her plate was clean. Murphy didn’t understand her behavior.

“Why don’t you want the kid?”

“Too many reasons. I don’t understand why anyone would want to bring…” She faded out on him again.

“A kid into this hellhole?”

“Yeah.” Clarke had yet to look at him, but he could see the mist in her eyes.

“This world ain’t so bad. A bit rough, but it’s at least more straight forward and fair than the Ark. And I mean fair like nature’s fair. Nature doesn’t discriminate, I’ll give it that.” He picked up the plates, wiped them off and put them on the stand near the door ready for next time.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m tired. I think I’ll lay down for a while.” Setting words to action, she pulled off her clothes and lay down on the mat in the corner, pulling the deerskin blanket over her.

Murphy shrugged and decided that now would be a good time to sharpen their weapons.

 

The chatter of the tribe woke Murphy, and he smiled at the feel of Clarke’s arm around his chest, her breasts and belly bump pressing into his back. Not that he’d ever tell her but it turned out that the princess had become his family. Her acceptance of him being ace shocked him, but then again, it made sense. Clarke was one of those accepting people. A luxury that he didn’t even know existed until her. It took time to get used to the idea, but he got the logic, even if it could never be practical in their lifetime.

He turned without dislodging her hold on him. His leg slipped between hers and he pulled her to his chest. The baby bump pushed into his stomach. She might not want the baby, but he did. Her resentment wasn’t difficult to understand. The baby’s father broke her heart. She didn’t feel ready at barely eighteen. The world they lived in was savage and lacking medical resources. And physically she wasn’t handling the pregnancy well. So why would she be happy about being pregnant? He got it. But he also couldn’t wait to meet the kid. It would be an amazing person, he knew it like he knew his name was Mofi.

When she moaned in discomfort, he rubbed her lower back as hard as he could.

“Thanks. Mm, don’t stop.” Her words muffled in his neck were so familiar these days.

“You’re welcome.”

Her top leg wrapped around his waist and she pulled him tighter against her. This was how she quailed the nausea when she could.

“Love you, Murphy, You’re better than they ever knew.” 

That she loved him and that he was better than people thought was heartening to hear. But he couldn’t show how much it affected him so, he pinched her side with his nails, a huge grin on his face.

“You’re still a dick though.” She didn’t move away, but rather snuggled closer.

“You have to get up, Clarke. Can’t leave Anya waiting.” He slapped her hip, and she slapped his ass in return before rolling out of his arms and out of bed.

“Time to play?”

“Hell yeah.”

They were dressed and ready to head outside when he noticed one of Clarke’s braids coming loose. “Hold up.” He re-braided the strand and secured it with a strip of hide.

“Thank you.” Her smile though brief, was sincere.

So he rolled his eyes and pushed her out the door. “Let’s go. We need to train, teach the children, and maybe hunt.”

Training and hunting were great pastimes, but teaching grated on her nerves even if the kids learned quick. They headed toward the training ring, picking weapons as they entered. The crisp air dismissed the last remaining vestiges of their sleepiness. A small group of warriors were fighting in the center of the ring, but most of the soldiers were still eating breakfast. Anya watched from the sidelines though, yelling orders, praise and criticisms here and there.

When the only person standing was the smallest of the bunch, Clarke and Murphy cheered. “Perfect, Luther! Perfect!”

Luther’s smile broadened as he bowed. “Clarke! Murphy! Your turn.”

Clarke and Murphy jumped at the invitation and circled Luther, the youngest of the warriors at twelve, putting him on guard.

“Don’t hit Clarke in the belly.” Murphy said reminding Luther he couldn’t hit Clarke in the belly. 

Clarke attacked first, laughing as she moved in while Luther dodged her, but leaving himself exposed for an assault from a grinning Murphy. The weapons were dull but still hurt like a bitch, so Luther grunted when the sword hit his shin. Murphy, more than ready for the counter-strike, leaped over the boy’s machete, tucking his legs in as he spun end over end before landing on his feet. Clarke once likened his tumbling tactics while fighting to the moves of a knight in chess. Her graceful fencing felt like a rook to him.

While sparring everyone looked out for themselves, but that didn’t mean temporary alliances weren’t made. It appeared as though Clarke and Luther were teaming up on him since Clarke just swept his legs out from under him with her staff as Luther tried for a killing blow. Rolling over before getting hit in the neck, Murphy tumbled backward to his feet.

“Bring it!” He smirked at his compatriots. Then went after Clarke with a kick to the head but her movement made it a graze rather than a stunning blow. She retaliated with a roundabout ending with her knife at his neck.

She shot him a wicked smile. “Brung.”

Murphy bowed out and watched Luther try to get the better of Clarke. If he’d been a little less hesitant, he would’ve had her twice. But she had this way of making her opponents second guess themselves. Luther’s defeat mirrored the one Murphy just faced. The boy listened to Clarke explain how she bested him with avid attention. And Murphy wondered for a moment why she thought she couldn't handle being a mother.

Anya seemed pleased, which was always good.

He and Clarke sat on the sidelines watching others spar. The crowd had grown and people hollered and cheered their favorites on. There were ten fighters going at it when Fers decided this was the perfect time to shove him into the ring. He cast her a scowl as he fell into the fray.

The midday sun warmed them as he and Clarke headed over to the children to teach them some of the stuff they remembered from classes on the Ark. They concentrated on things like math and science that could help the kids survive better.

“Why does Fers hate you so much?” Clarke asked in old English for a switch.

He sighed and looked around making sure no one who understood old English was within earshot. “She wants to, I don’t know, date me or something. I have to keep screwing her until she gets pregnant, but I never stay the night or spend time with her outside that crap.”

“Ah, she's expecting romantic love and you don’t feel that way about her.”

“I might’ve been able to feel like that but then I couldn’t have… do we really need to talk about this?” His frustration riled his temper.

“No. But if you ever want to, you know you can talk to me anytime, right Murph?” She rubbed his arm until he nodded and breathed even again.

* * *

When Murphy returned from forcing himself to have sex with Fers, and Clarke saw the wounded expression as he averted his gaze, she punched him in the arm. “Go?” The irritated glare he gave her changed the suggestion to, “Go with Moonshine?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She pulled the board and stones out while he found the remaining booze. The game ended with her winning because he was drunk. And for a moment she thought he felt better, or better enough to get through another day, when he asked, “Do you ever think about the others? From the hundred?”

Her answer was clipped. “No.” 

His face screamed anger, so she cupped his it in her palms and kissed his forehead. “We have to concentrate on living. They’re gone, and we’re hungry.”

He shuffled to bed with a mumbled. “Yeah.”

* * *

Monty rushed over to where Jasper lounged with a glassy eyes. “Erich’s missing.” The panic filled whisper sobered Jasper in a flash.

“We’re not losing any more of us.” The pair set off to look for the newest missing. “Maybe I can get more information out of Maya?”

“I sure hope so,” Monty said as they avoided the cameras in the hall.

* * *

One minute Erich had been munching on chocolate caramels, a pleasure he thought he’d never have. The next he was strapped down with a drill excavating his hip bone. Nothing dulled the pain and his screams echoed off the concrete walls. Lucky number seven.


	4. Innocent Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again a lot of Trigedasleng. The word to know this time is maunon which means Mountain Men.
> 
> And some new art for this.

Keeping their captive in a tent at the height of winter made life interesting though Lincoln wouldn’t let on. He cleaned his nails with a knife as if bored. The prisoner glared at Lincoln with his chin jutted out and an unblinking stare. The Mountain Men never strayed this far from their territory. He knew a sign like this couldn’t be worse for them. All the Grounders and the Sky People were at risk. And most of the Sky People had already fallen victim to the Mountain Men. What they needed, they didn’t have: an interrogator. The Commander told them Anya had a new one that hadn’t failed in cracking even the strongest-willed prisoner from the Ice Nation. But he had little hope that they’d have their answers.

Indra joined them, her dark skin contrasting against the snow and frost. “We leave at first light. This Clarke will get what we want.” Her contempt for the mountain man was so great she wouldn’t even acknowledge him. “Tristan is getting everything ready for travel. Do you have one of those things Raven created for us?”

The walkie talkie dangled from his belt and he touched it.

“Good. It might not be Sky garbage after all.”

Lincoln glanced at the man sitting across from him and worried that they were over their heads this time. Ice Nation soldiers had more sense to be afraid than this man. If a man lacked fear, then he lacked cracks in his armor.

Sunrise would be in a couple hours and they’d leave with it.

* * *

Octavia helped Raven to her feet as they got ready for the two-day trek they were about to make. “You seem upset.”

With a shrug, Raven tested the strength of the new brace she’d made.

“Don’t blow me off, Raven. What’s wrong? You’ve been getting more distant everyday.” When she let go of Raven, she left her arms right behind her in case there was a sudden need to catch. Raven managed to not only stay on her feet but walk close to normal. “Spill.”

“Okay, Finn’s being an ass. I mean I risked my life getting down here to him months ago, and he’s never seemed to really want me here. He doesn’t talk to me, he barely touches me, and I can’t remember the last time we kissed. I don’t get what his deal is. I get picked first for everything, always have. What the hell’s his problem?”

“Why isn’t he picking you first this time?”

Raven turned away and put on an air of indifference, “Okay, yeah, why isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. You’d be my first pick. You could try asking him.”

Feeling out the brace with more weight on it, Raven shook her head. “This thing needs tied tighter.”

Octavia crouched down and tightened the laces on the metal, wood, and animal skin brace. “Better?”

As Raven pressed down from heel to toe and back again, she could tell it worked better. “Perfect.”

* * *

Bellamy and Tristan packed the last of their gear onto their only horse. This horse only bore a passing resemblance to those he’d seen in pictures on the Ark. Leathery skin and no fur plus strange growths made the beast appear more like a mythical creature from a fairy tale than anything he thought could exist. As Bellamy patted down the horse’s flank, Finn brought out the prisoner. The dumb prick refused to move on his own, so Finn had to carry him out over his shoulders. A growl reverberated in his throat as he watched Collins strap the prisoner to the saddle.

“Why waste time going to some village two days away when we could get answers right now? He knows what’s happening to our people. We just need to make him tell us.”

No one replied. Finn’s hands shook and the tightness around his eyes showed how wound up he was. Bellamy had been watching Collins for months, and while he’d fooled Raven, the rest of them were well aware that every day that passed where Finn didn’t hear about Clarke shaved more of his altruism away.

Bellamy turned to Tristan. “I know you feel the same way. You’ve lost people too. To these fuckers. Why are you refusing to do something about it?” He grabbed the Grounder’s collar when he tried to turn away.

With a grunt, Tristan shoved Bell’s hand away. “Stupid child. Survival is necessary, and you have no instinct for it. Surviving is knowing when to follow the advice of those wiser than you. You have no wisdom, so shut up and do what you’re to…”

Finn hit Tristan in the head with a rock, but it did little more than irritate the behemoth. He grabbed Collins by the throat. “Try that again child, and I’ll forget my orders and shred you.”

Bellamy ground his teeth as he heaved them apart. “We just want to save our friends.”

Tristan snorted, turning his back to the other two. “That’s what we’re doing.”

Finn grabbed Bellamy’s sleeve before he could walk off, “We should gang up on him. With both of us, we’d overpower him easy.”

There was a moment where Bell considered that proposal, but then the rest of their caravan joined them. Octavia gave him a look that told him she knew precisely what he’d been up to and warned him to cut that shit out. He pointed to the others with his eyes when it appeared Finn would say more.

Unable to get his way, Finn’s shoulders hunched, and he slung a pack on.

* * *

It took over twenty minutes for Raven to corner Finn. “Hey, you. We need to talk.”

His attempt to hide his annoyance failed, and the smile he forced onto his face sliced her like a razor. “What do we need to talk about?”

“Do you still love me?”

Finn’s confusion seemed genuine. “Always.”

“Like a lover or like a sister?”

A storm exploded from him. “Raven, you don’t love me like a lover! You never have. You confused gratitude for attraction. Do you have any idea how fucked up that is? To have to see that you don’t even understand yourself? And I can’t say anything because we can’t afford to have this kind of drama down here. We don’t have the damn luxury.” He spun on his heel and walked away.

Raven half groaned, half growled, trying to keep herself from going after him to give him a beating he’d never forget. When she turned to get her pack, Octavia stood there with her arms spread wide. Raven melted into the embrace and wondered why she’d ever come down here. If she’d died in space, she would have at least died at home.

Too soon they needed to leave and Indra shouted orders at Octavia to guard the prisoner, for Lincoln to lead the way, and Tristan to guard the rear. Raven felt useless, but at least she wasn’t alone in that uselessness. Bellamy and Finn were as much dead weight as she was.

The strange part about this journey was how the knee deep snow evened out the playing field. The snow supported her ankle and kept it from swelling, making it so she could keep up without too much effort.

* * *

Fers served Anya her supper just as one of the Commander’s riders sped through the village. When he dismounted and strode past her, Fers toppled sideways. She hadn’t mastered balancing her growing belly yet. Anya dismissed the girl with a harsh bark. “Get Clarke.”

Once the girl was gone, Anya stood and met the rider away from the crowded table. “Is the Commander coming?”

“The caravan is a breath away. Get ready.”

She hadn’t expected the convoy until late the next day, but preparations had been completed several hours ago. They just needed to get the key piece into the arena.

 

Marcel leaned against the cement wall of the bunker, a smile on his lips. No longer unbearably cold, he mused over his future. The outsiders were no match for him. They didn't understand what they held captive. Soon they’d find out and be cleansed.

Just out of his reach was a young girl unlike any outsider he’d ever seen before. He’d only seen such fairness in his fellow numen. The gray dress she wore might have been white at one point. Her stomach swelled with the favor of godly boon and she looked angelic. But no matter how holy she appeared, she was an outsider demon. So when she offered him the last of her food and water, he accepted with a warm smile, but kept his guard up.

“How long have you been down here?” he asked once he finished eating.

“I don’t know. But I don’t know what the sky looks like.” A wistful dreamy look crossed her face, and she gave him a wan smile. “I’m used to this though, it's home.”

“I know the feeling. I grew up locked in a mountain with the rest of my kind.”

“Other people? What are they like?”

Her innocent interest fascinated him, and he told her about everything that he knew to be inconsequential. He told her the story of Amelia and her disciples. How they raised everyone out of perdition, and into the hands of salvation, their own hands, the hands of gods.

* * *

When mid day arrived and the prisoner still hadn’t given them anything useful, Anya sent in her backup plan.

“Permanent injury, but not too cruel.”

Murphy didn’t hesitate or second guess.

* * *

Jumping through the hatch landed Murphy right in front of the Mountain Men. With a glimpse around, he found just the thing he needed. A lightning quick grab of the plate and canteen startled the man, but Murphy threw the items at the woman. “Rekim.” 

Petrified, she cowered away from him, but not fast enough to avoid his knife slashing her face.

“Penta.” 

Blood dripped between the fingers she pressed against her wound. He regarded her watering eyes and jerked in her direction, making her jump. The whimper meant nothing to him, and he left.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Marcel asked as he tried to pull her hand away from her face. “Angel, you need to let me see that.”

When he saw the injury, his gut clenched. They needed to leave. He couldn’t leave her to these savages. No one as sweet and kind as this girl could ever be considered an outsider. Marcel knew in his heart that she was divine and he needed to protect her at all costs.

A few hours later, the bleeding stopped and the two of them made plans to escape. Between her knowledge of the bunker they were in and the people that held them, and his of the surrounding area coupled with a definitive place to go, the plan came together faster than he’d predicted.


	5. Peculiar Angels

Marcel and Angel ran hand-in-hand away from the demon village, but sounds of the outsiders kept getting closer.

Angel pulled her hand out of his. “We need to split up.”

“I’m not leaving you out here.” His voice sounded more stern and determined to him than ever before.

“Tell me how to get into the Mount. I’ll meet you there.” Sweat poured down her face and the livid wound across her cheek twinged with each drop it absorbed.

He whispered the way to safety in her ear. As the last words left his lips, his chest exploded in pain. Blood dribbled out of his mouth, and Marcel moaned at the betrayal. The knife she’d shoved up under his ribs glowed the brightest red. The red coated the blade, her hand, the sleeve of her dress until it bled into the Angel he’d believed she was. Truly she was an angel. She was the Angel of Death.

“Yu gonplei ste odon.”

* * *

The man crumpled to the ground at Clarke’s feet, the fog of his breath extinguished. “It’s over!”

Grounders materialized from the frozen wilderness, like made from the woods themselves.

“We need to get ready to fight.”

Tristan stood next to Clarke. “Our fight will never be over.”

“You’re right. Our fight will never be over. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t hope.”

He raised an eyebrow at her as he handed her a fur cloak. “You’re peculiar.”

“I take it the Commander’s here.” Clarke fastened the chain to keep the wrap in place.

“She is.”

“Good. I need to talk to her about strategy.” Pulling her blade out of the Mountain Man, not bothering to wipe the blood off it or her hand, Clarke headed home.

* * *

Murphy waltzed between huts to the center of the village. Clarke would be back any minute and he wanted to make sure he hadn’t cut her too deep. He brought a jug of water flavored with mint the way she liked. She swore it helped the intense heartburn pregnancy inflicted on her.

The gathering field sat on the other side of the shack he was rounding when he heard Finn’s voice. He blindsided Finn, bashing the jug on his head. “Useless piece of shit! I should kill you!” They crashed to the ground with Murphy punching Finn, trying to cave in the boy’s skull with his bare hands.

Anya whistled before Murphy could do more than superficial damage. “You won’t kill him, Murphy. We need every able body we can get. If you still have a quarrel with him after we win, then you can take this up again.”

“Yes, Anya.” Murphy said as he stood up again. He sniffed and wiped under his nose. This fucking cold made his nose run like a leaky pipe. He grabbed the jug off the ground, grateful he’d made it out of metal.

When he scoped out the field, he saw others from the drop ship and a girl he didn’t know but who dressed like she was from the Ark. Bellamy approached him with an arm outstretched. “I’m glad you survived.”

He took the arm, wrapping his hand around the wrist, and pulled Bell in close. “No thanks to you, bastard.” Murphy relished in the hurt on Bellamy’s face when he pushed him away.

With complete confidence in his ability to intimidate with just a glance, he waved at the girls before taking his seat next to Anya. “Sorry, Anya.”

She told him not to be such a beast, but she did so with a smile, and he grinned back as he bowed his head. Anya, Lexa, Indra and Murphy watched the tribe interacting with the new Sky People amongst them and speculated on where they would end up. Lexa had taken them on as her responsibility, resting their fate in her hands. While the Commander had talked with him before, it chuffed Murphy that she held his opinion in some kind esteem. He was in the middle of explaining what the pecking order had been right after they landed, when Clarke emerged from the woods, leading the warriors back. Her hair loose was unusual enough these days that he stared for a moment before going to meet her with her mint water.

When Finn cut him off, Murphy smirked. He had a fair idea of how Clarke would take seeing him again. Her right cross when Finn tried to hug her made him laugh.

“I got you mint water, love!” She tackled him with a hug.

“Love you too. And you made a great wound.” She pointed at the cut on her face. “Perfect.”

He pointed to the scar across his nose and under his eye. “Even?”

“Yeah, we’re even.” She took the decanter and chugged. “Commander?”

“Lexa’s over here.” They bumped shoulders as they walked side by side, laughing at the Mountain Man’s naive stupidity. Clarke’s speech slurred a bit as she talked out of the uninjured side of her mouth. The cut he gave her extended over her cheek and clipped the top of her lip.

After reaching the inner circle of the crowd, Octavia, Bellamy and the other girl approached. O looked happiest. “Clarke?”

Before she could answer, Bellamy butted in. “If you’re here, did anyone else end up here? Were the Grounders lying to us when they said the Mountain Men took everyone?”

“Nice to see you, too, Bellamy. And no one lied to you. The only Sky people here are me and Murphy.” She turned back to Octavia. “Great war paint. Looks like you finally found home.”

The girls hugged each other tight for a moment before Octavia pulled back and gave Clarke’s belly a pointed look. “Holy hell! You must be ready to pop.”

“Feels that way. They make me sit out a lot anymore. Makes for a lot of boring days. I needed this.”

Murphy saw the woman he didn’t know turn away and walk off. He turned to where she glared before leaving and saw Finn staring at Clarke’s pregnant belly. While Clarke had greeted Finn the way he’d expected, Murphy wasn’t sure how she would tell Collins about his upcoming fatherhood. Would the Spacewalker close him out of the baby’s life? The baby he thought of as his own?

“Clarke?” Finn grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her toward him, but she held her blood crusted knife to his throat.

“Get away from me, Finn.”

He didn’t flinch, but rather had that stupid expression Murphy remembered all too well plastered across his face. “You’re pregnant? I’m going to be a father?”

“Murphy’ll be a father. You’re nothing to us.” For effect she nicked Finn’s neck with her blade before she turned, seeking Murphy out. “I need to lie down. Join me?”

The smug smile couldn’t be helped. “Of course, Clarke. It’s been a long couple days, and I’ve missed having you in our bed.” He took her hand and they headed for the hut they now shared with Anya as her seconds. They could update the leaders later.

It was possible that he enjoyed Finn’s sounds of distress a bit too much as he and Clarke went home. Or, well, Clarke might think so at any rate. To him, though, Finn’s screeching tantrum was the funniest thing to happen around the village in over a month.

Taking the time to wash Clarke down and rub her swelled feet, Murphy considered how happy they were here and worried that the others would disrupt that happiness.

Clarke’s ability to read his mind never failed to startle him. “No one’s coming between us, Murphy. You’re my primary. Now and always.”

He settled them into bed and wrapped himself around her. “It’s an easy choice to make. Finn’s such a tool and I’m perfection personified.”

She nuzzled her face into his neck. “I’ve even come to appreciate your arrogance, my love.”

Over her shoulder he saw Anya peering in at them. The caring smile and adoring look told him that she understood Clarke’s need for sleep. In the morning they’d plan their war.

* * *

The five surviving delinquents listened with rapt attention as Maya explained the history of the Mount. “The day was Monday, April 22, 2052, 3:02 in the A.M. when sirens all over Washington D.C. wailed. Panicked residents fled the city and headed for Mount Weather. The stampede left broken bodies behind it and most of the ones still standing didn’t make it. They lived to see the doors shut on them, leaving them outside for the bomb to decimate. The ones who won shelter by luck or speed were not as fortunate as one would think. They despaired in the wake of this tragedy. All of them had lost loved ones. Some had even seen the doors separate them from their family, unable to do anything to save them.

“None of this improved when word got around that their supplies were more limited than they were led to believe. Moreover none of the radios brought news of other survivors.

“Six people took their own lives before the messiah rose from the least likely place. A king to save them all. She was twelve and her name was Amelia. That name has been sacred ever since. Amelia’s brilliance saved them all. Her ingenuity delivered them food and sustained them through a plague. She designed their system of mating and ensured that their godliness would survive until the fates sucked the poison out of the world once more.

“That’s the story everyone in the Mount knows. It’s not true. Oh sure, everything up to and through the suicides is accurate, but the rest is steeped in lies.”

“So what’s the truth?”

“That the bomb that went off here wasn’t from any major country. It was the first bomb, and it came from a minor country and was no more powerful than the bombs that were dropped in Japan in the second World War. So we can survive outside with few issues. You might as well drink poison if you tell anyone this. Not that it matters; most people refuse to see the truth. My mother told her best friend, but he laughed at her and told her that her imagination was overdeveloped.”

Monty raised questioning eyebrows. “So help me out here. No one needs to stay locked up in this concrete coffin, but the president keeps everyone imprisoned why?”

“I don’t know. Dante was so nice. I want to say he had other reasons, but I don’t know them.”

Jasper’s voice shook. “Why are they killing us? Cage and Tsing keep telling us that we’re the only way for them to survive outside.”

“As far as I can tell, it’s an excuse. A loophole. A way to get everyone outside without letting them know they’ve been duped.” Maya swallowed her worry.

Miller cleared his throat. “So we’re finding a way out, right?”

“Definitely.” Jasper’s hands shook, and he excused himself. In the hall, he dry-swallowed a pill. When he opened his eyes, Cage and a couple guards were approaching. Hurrying back into the dorm room, Jasper alerted everyone by forming a C with his hand.

“Well, venerated oblations, the time for the sacrificial ritual has come. One last decision must be made to save my disciples and I’m not in a position to make it.” Cage looked at them with the fire of a zealot gleaming from his eyes. “But you are.”

They pulled together as far away from Cage as they could get.

“We won’t do it!” Jasper put his body in front of everyone, arms out like a protective parent.

Cage’s smile creeped up the spines of everyone in the group. “Yes, you will.”


	6. Children of Njörðr

The argument over who the greatest musical phenomenon had been before the war belied the serious mission in front of them. Bellamy argued that it had to be the Beatles while Murphy argued that according to the numbers it had to be Taylor Swift. The argument lasted the entire journey from Shaw to Mount Weather ending when Bellamy said, “I don’t even like the Beatles and I know you don’t like Taylor Swift.”

Murphy smirked. “You’re not wrong. Now let’s focus on what needs to be done here. We’ve reached the edge of the Mountain Men’s sightline.”

* * *

Cage chuckled at Jasper’s denial of cooperation. “You might have started that pill habit on your own, but I’m the one supplying you with that relief. So, if you want any more of these,” Cage held up a small baggie of pills, “then you’ll pick who’s next.”

Memories of when he tried to quit his little helpers flashed behind Jasper’s eyelids. Dread filled him and he took a step forward, his face stoic. “Then I pick me. I’ll go. Kill me and let my friends go.”

Cage doubled over laughing and slapping his knees. The guards rumbled with laughter as well. After calming down and regaining his composure, Cage said, “You’re funny, Jasper. Remind me to keep you on as my court jester. Now let’s be serious. Who are we sacrificing today?”

Jasper’s face contorted into something inhuman, lunging forward and screaming. “Take me!”

Monty, however, couldn’t let his friend die and rose his hand to volunteer. An impossible to swallow lump formed in his throat. When Jasper noticed the hand, he threw himself on it, pulling it down to safety. “Monty, no.”

With continued amusement, Cage leaned into Jasper, and with him holding Monty’s hand down both young men heard his quiet statement. “We need you to stay with us and help us keep your friends in line. So, we’ll be taking your best friend as a reminder that we are the gods and you’re the lambs. While we venerate your existence, you’re still just a sacrifice and therefore your lives will be given to our magnificence.”

A flick of Cage’s wrist brought the guards over. And another ordered them to take Monty Green away. The look of terror on Monty’s face worked in favor of Cage’s agenda. The fear and horror Jasper exuded spelled out Cage’s victory.

Without thought, Jasper attacked Cage, grabbing a guard's gun. Everyone else was too stunned to move while Jasper and Cage struggled.

Myriad shots echoed off the concrete walls.

* * *

With the intel they’d gotten from Marcel, and years of surveillance, coupled with Raven’s technical know-how, the group led by Octavia killed the Mount’s electric by cutting the cables from the dam.

Pointing to her second, Octavia ordered him to hold the line here with the others, while she backtracked to the group led by Murphy.

“Ready?”

Murphy nodded and gestured for the troops to cross the river. The river that had been a boundary for almost a century. And crossing that boundary had brought down hellfire as acid fog, missiles, and sniper fire on the entire population of Tondc. Fear of crossing this boundary made the gounders secure it for their enemies. This was why Jasper got speared their first day on the ground.

While they’d spread out so the Mountain Men wouldn’t see them coming, Murphy and Octavia could spot their comrades with ease. And everyone could spot Bellamy and Finn.

Octavia reached the hidden door leading into the Mount first, followed a second later by Tristan and Murphy.

Sniper fire sliced a line between the three at the door and the rest of the Grounder army, killing off the original plan.

“Plan B?” The words were laced with cynical sarcasm, and Octavia grinned despite herself.

“I’m ready if you are.” Murphy shrugged his pack off and double checked his supplies. “Tristan, cover the door.”

* * *

The tension in Shaw village permeated every person’s every action. Clarke, Lexa and Anya remained in their quarters discussing how to promote peace among the tribes, as if there wasn’t a battle taking place on Mount Weather. Indra scoffed at the idea of peace, and spent the entire conversation sharpening knives and planning a second wave, so if they needed one it’d be ready. Her condensation of peace might have been amplified by Lexa’s insistence that she stay behind rather than lead the troops into the current battle.

While sewing a tapestry, Lexa said, “Ideally I’d spread the Sky people out. One for each village. But there aren’t enough of them. Plus you seem to object to Murphy and this one being separated, Anya.”

Anya sipped some wine and shrugged. “If one or both are taken fair, then I won’t object. But as it stands, I find they work well together. They care about each other enough to motivate them while not caring enough to get anyone killed. They’ve managed a balance so few of us find.”

“I don’t think Sky people are the answer no matter how you dole us out. A decree denouncing kidnapping would do us much better. Half the battles waged are to mix the lineages. Don’t you think that an annual gathering where the heda negotiate how to distribute their people would be more useful?” Clarke mashed herbs with a pestle. “We’d be able to avoid inbreeding even more effectively and we wouldn’t kill each other off in the process.”

“Idiot child.” Indra snorted and glared at Clarke. “You’re too soft for a second.”

Lexa paused in her embroidery, ignored Indra and studied Clarke. “I’ve heard what I needed to hear. You know what we need. I’ll tell the Grounders you’re the Commander. I’ll call the meeting after the funeral.”

Indra stood and faced Lexa. “You can’t be serious! This isn’t wisdom! This is weakness that will get us all killed!”

“My life is your life. Our souls are entwined.” Clarke held Lexa’s gaze communicating her acceptance of her new position as Commander.

The ground shook with a violence that broke Clarke’s water, however, she stood up as though nothing happened and went outside with the other women. Upon seeing the billowing smoke from Mount Weather, she said, “The dead are gone and the living are hungry.”

Anya noticed the amniotic fluid dripping in the snow. “Nyko! The baby’s coming!”

To avoid undue panic, Lexa called the villagers to her and started a prayer circle. Clarke leaned on Anya and Nyko as her abdomen contracted. Indra left to prepare supplies for any returning warriors.

* * *

Half a day of Clarke’s heavy labor later thrust Anya into the unfamiliar role of assisting the healer. Anya dabbed Clarke’s sweaty forehead. “How long Nyko?”

With a look between Clarke’s legs, he said, “Any second.”

“She’s early.”

“Yes I am but there’s nothing to worry about.” Clarke gasped when a new contraction ripped through her. “I’d rather be fighting right now though. Getting stabbed in the gut has to hurt less than this.”

Anya smiled at Clarke. “It does. I’ve done both.”

“Push.” Nyko said when the next contraction hit.

Clarke grit her teeth and pushed with everything she had.

* * *

Raven’s nerves sat on edge from sitting next to the radio for close to twenty-four hours waiting for any news. Even if Finn didn’t want her, he was still the only family she had. It didn’t help that Clarke’s moans and grunts traveled as though no walls separated them.

After over-thinking everything, Raven decided that Clarke claiming Murphy as the father wasn’t a biological truth but a truth of the social dynamic between Clarke and Murphy. If it were true then Clarke had no reason to be so venomous toward Finn.

The baby crying almost covered the sound of the radio broadcasting. But with some quick thinking Raven amplified the volume a bit more. “This is Camp Shaw. Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear.” The sound of Octavia’s voice relieved a tension Raven didn’t even know she had.

“What’re we expecting?”

“Only a dozen or so injured. Less than half serious. We’re less than an hour away.” Octavia sounded tired.

“How many survivors?” The long silence amped the fear coursing through Raven’s body.

“Not many.”

“Finn?”

“I… I’m sorry.”

With all sound mixed together, Raven couldn’t tell where the baby crying ended and her own began. She couldn’t filter out the static of the radio, or Octavia’s voice, or the chatter of the villagers. It all tangled together until Raven hit the bottom of her despair and reacted in her true style.

“Tell me they’re all fucking dead, Octavia.”

“They are, Raven. No Mountain Men survived.”

“I’ll make sure the healers are ready and waiting.”

“See you soon. Out.”

Raven limped out into the snow when the sound of a second infant screaming joined the first. “Twins?”

Perhaps her bottom was farther down than she thought. Then she realized those babies were all that remained of Finn. It didn’t matter how she felt about the mother, those children were her family. So she ducked into the leaders’ hut, hoping to see her… nieces? Nephews? Niece and nephew?

With a peek through the curtain, she watched as Nyko cleaned and swaddled the tiny boy and girl. Their tears dried as they fell asleep in the basket next to their unconscious mother.

“You can come and take a closer look,” Anya said.

“Uh,” Raven stumbled over what she wanted to ask. “What’re their names?”

“Clarke mentioned wanting to name a girl ‘Viola’ and a boy ‘Sebastian.’” Anya picked up the girl and handed her to Raven. Then she picked up the boy and cooed at him. “Hello, little one, welcome home.”

Raven melted gazing down at the baby she held. The tiny creature in her arms had Finn’s coloring. The moment was ruined when she remembered her responsibilities. “We have to get all the healers ready. We have a dozen injured returning in less than an hour. Half them seriously hurt.”

Clarke groaned. “Gimme a minute. I’ll get everything prepped in no time.”

Raven wanted to tell Clarke not to be an idiot, but Clarke was one of only three healers in the camp. They hadn’t been able to convince any of the surrounding villages to send any. And the two that wanted to help, couldn’t. At the moment, a plague was ravaging the NoMa tribe, and the Ward’s healer and their apprentice had died in the last acid fog from the Mount. “There anything I can do?”

“Did you work on those defibrillators like I asked?”

“Yeah, I think they’ll even work.”

“Then be prepared to help us use them.” Clarke groaned as she forced herself up. “Time to get to work.” She gestured at Anya. “You and Lexa get the villagers working on their assignments. I’ll set up triage.”

As Anya set the baby boy in the basket and left, Nyko returned with a bucket of water and saw Clarke out of bed. “What?”

“Nyko. Is the hall ready for casualties?”

“Yes, Second.”

“Good, get Sienne and be ready for them. And find Sim. I need her to take care of my children.”

Raven watched all this in confusion. “Why’s Clarke giving all the orders?” But there was no one there to answer her question. She’d been left alone with both infants. This was so out of her depth. “I’m not good with babies!”


	7. Just Another Day

When the silhouettes of soldiers returning from the attack on Mount Weather appeared in the distance like ghosts in the mist and solidified only to show that there weren’t even two dozen survivors out of the two hundred and some sent, a wave of despair washed over the awaiting villagers.

Lexa sent the dead retrieval crew to do their job and had the rest of the villagers take care of their returning heroes. Some were sent to help the medics while others provided blankets and food and alcohol.

Without waiting to see every homecoming warrior, not even waiting to see if Murphy made it, Clarke took charge of the two other healers, Raven, and the extra hands she was sent. While determining who would get treated first and who could wait, her hands were covered in blood within the first few minutes.

Out of all her pains from birthing twins, her torn perineum irritated her the most, but she ignored it as she put a tracheostomy into a woman’s throat, allowing her to breathe again. Washing her hands in alcohol as she moved from that table to the next, she sized up the needs of her next patient--three bullet wounds around a kidney that probably needed removed.

Around thirteen hours later, Clarke got to sit down. Her clothes crusted with the blood of a half-dozen people, her feet swollen and purple, she fell asleep sitting in the middle of what had served as the operating room.

* * *

After having shocked four people back to life, Raven sat down with a bottle of booze she hoped would drown her despair. Finn was dead, she didn't know what had happened to the Ark, and the only survivors from home were Clarke, who she hated, and Octavia, who had supported her from the start. Her ankle would get nobetter than this, and if she wanted to have any kind of family down here, she had to include Clarke.

While the wine around here passed muster, the harder liquors tasted like battery acid. But they succeeded at blitzing a person in three belts or less. One down and the world tilted.

Octavia grabbed the bottle and took a gulp, bumping into Raven’s shoulder as she sat. “Can’t let you drink alone. Not a proper wake with only one person.”

“I guess.” Raven snatched the bottle back and took another swig while concentrating on how her head swam and her limbs loosened. She gave the bottle back to O, watching her profile. How could Octavia sit there looking as though it was just another day? Like her brother hadn’t just died?

As if Octavia had read her mind, she said, “Bellamy made it his job to give me a life, protect me, make sure I was as happy as he could. Growing up, I knew in some abstract way that my existence would kill him eventually. But when we got here and found Earth survivable, I thought our fortune had changed and we’d both live and be happy. And it turns out he still died making sure I had a life, was safe, and could be happy one day. I kinda hate the bastard for that.” O’s next swallow should’ve killed her, so much alcohol ran down her throat, but she handed the bottle back to Raven with a steady hand. “That old rag of hating the dead for daring to die without your permission.”

Uncomfortable emotions crinkled Raven’s face before she jumped head-first into intoxication by swallowing this poison until the concentration of foul taste forced her head to the side, booze pouring down her chest. Her wet clothes would have made her colder, but at this point she felt nothing. Words from a manuscript she’d read when she was twelve muddled through her fading thoughts.

‘There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you.’ Another quote followed from a different source. ‘I want my expiration date to be a long time from now. Like a Cheeto.’ Consciousness dimming, a final thought entered her mind: ‘What the hell’s a Cheeto?’ And then she fell into Octavia’s lap.

* * *

Anya feathered her fingers over Lexa’s cheek as they lay under several blankets. “I think picking Clarke to take over as Commander was a good choice. Took you long enough to find someone though. Your Council died half a year ago, and if you’d waited any longer to change the guard, certain factions would have used that as an opportunity to force their agenda.”

“My first choice refused to accept the position.”

“Sorry, but I’ll never understand why you even tried to pick me after I refused the mantle more than once.” Anya rolled onto her back and stared at the patchwork ceiling. “I have more power than I want. And being leader cost me my child. And it cost you Costia. Why anyone would want to lead mystifies me.”

“Because peace is built on the back of sacrifice and those who are capable need to think of their people before themselves. You know that as well as I do.” Lexa lifted herself up to study Anya. “You could have another child.”

“The scar tissue in my womb disagrees.”

“I didn’t know.” Lexa pressed her cheek to Anya’s. “You train wonderful leaders, Anya. You’d make a wonderful mother. I’m sorry that you never got more than a few months as one.”

“It’s late and we have yet to respect our dead.” Anya turned away from Lexa and closed her eyes.

Lexa sighed as she lay back down, staring at Anya’s mane and shoulder.

 

The sound of her babies crying bolted Clarke awake but her brain didn’t function until after she’d attached the infants to her chest, which was a task and a half. Viola didn’t want to latch on right and balancing her and Sebastian at the same time took some puzzling out. When she scanned around, she realized that she and her children were alone in the room. Just enough light made it through the cracks to see that.

In this moment, where the only sounds were suckling infants, Clarke allowed herself to grieve. She let herself grieve not only for Murphy and the other warriors she thought of as family, but for the entire Ark. The light from the Ark had been missing from the Sky for longer than it should have been. They’d never managed to contact it. Any hope of the Ark’s survival lived in fairy tales and wishful thinking. It was time to forget her time living in the Sky.

She kept her sobbing under just enough control to not disturb the babies while she broke apart on the inside. Her heart anguished over how much she’d lost, how much her children wouldn’t have, and how alone she was in all this now.

Sebastian and Viola finished eating with wide eyes. Clarke rinsed out their mouths and changed their nappies. Each of them held one of her fingers in their tiny grips. Viola chewed the tip and held on as tight as she could, while Sebastian flexed his fingers and grabbed his mother’s in different places, exploring. But Clarke stared off into the middle distance, unaware.

Morning came and nothing had changed. It took Nyko and Sim checking on them for Clarke to feign life. Sim picked up both babies with practiced ease, and Nyko asked questions about the health of both Clarke and her children. When he was satisfied that they were well, he nodded and stood up. “The dead have started to arrive, Commander.”

“I’ll be out in a minute, Nyko. I need to dress.”

He bowed his head and left.

With stiff arms, Clarke donned her armor--re-purposed rubber from tires and metal from anything they could find, with a wool sash. She applied her face paint with practiced ease, laced her boots, and then left her house to join the others in preparing the dead for their pyre. No matter their station, everyone worked together in washing and wrapping the bodies. The affair started long before the last of the procession of bodies emerged from the woods.

She knew the names of everyone that had died; knew their families, their dreams, their quirks; and seeing them, so many of them laid out and unmoving, drained her. Moving to the next body with her bucket of scented water and oilskin wraps, Clarke died inside a little more. She pushed the hair out of this one’s face revealing Luther, a bullet wound in his cheek and another just above the hairline.

Her movements mechanical, Clarke stopped seeing anything other than the memories of her and Murphy training Luther, teasing him, joining him and his family for meals, hunting with him, and loving him like a little brother. Before she finished wrapping his face, she kissed his cheek above the bullet hole. “May we meet again.” With a deep breath, she stood up and said she needed a break before heading to her hut.

The moment she stepped through the door, she heard Murphy making baby noises. She threw the curtain to their room aside and rushed to a stop when she saw him, battered and cut, but alive and holding Viola while Sebastian slept next to him. “My Murphy.”

“Hey, Clarke!” He smiled at her like nothing had happened. Like there hadn’t been a huge battle where almost everyone had died. Like it was just any other day. They gazed at each other for a moment before he saw her distress. “Clarke? What’s wrong.”

“I thought you were dead.” She stumbled to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, making sure not to disturb the babies.

He reached back to cradle her head with his free hand, turning his own head to kiss her hair, forehead and eyes. “I’m okay. Didn’t anyone tell you? I stayed with the dead to scare off scavengers.”

“No. No one said anything.” She stroked his face when she felt his temper flare. “Don’t get upset. It’s been insane around here. The injured and returned needed taken care of. And we’ve been preparing the fallen all day.”

“Yeah, okay.” He didn’t seem calm though. His muscles felt tense under her hands.

Sebastian fussed, and the parents saw to their children before returning them to the care of Simone so they could tend to their obligations.

* * *

Murphy watched Clarke light the pyre and thought about Jasper and Monty and Miller and how they didn’t get this kind of ceremony. Was there anyone that would mourn their deaths? The image of them lying massacred on the floor wouldn’t leave him. Haunted by the memory of Monty cradling what was left of Jasper’s head, he sniffed and rubbed his arm under his nose. His anger in that moment had led him to lock all those kids in a room before setting the charges on the missiles that had been sitting in the Mountain Men's arsonal. And while he might be able to fool everyone else into thinking he was okay, he knew he never would be. For months he’d fooled himself into thinking he had a soul, but now he knew the truth.

With a glance at Clarke again, he thought, ‘She need not know.’ And with a glimpse at Octavia and Raven, holding hands, he decided that they didn’t need to know either.

Indra caught his eye with a knowing and kindred nod. She was someone he could share this side of himself with. While he’d be Clarke’s spouse, he’d be Indra’s second.

A smirk tugged at the edges of his lips. Finn had died believing that Clarke Murphy were lovers; that they’d had sex, a lot of it; and that she’d chosen that over sex with Finn Collins, Spacewalker extraordinaire and all-around heart-throb. Truth was, Murphy didn’t like sex. Had no use for it. He knew that sex would never lose its stranglehold on people, at least not before every last human had become worm food. So Finn being crazed over losing that to Murphy amused him.

His smile disappeared when he saw the empty look on Clarke’s face. He took her hand and squeezed because he knew it would comfort her. Sex or no, he loved Clarke and the twins. They were his home, and he was glad the Ark had died, because if it hadn’t, he would never have found one.

In all the children’s games he’d ever played, the person who made it home was the winner.

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the quotes Raven thought: the first was from "The Fault in Our Stars" By John Green, and the second was a paraphrase of a quote from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."


End file.
